Bittersweet farewell
by Kuroneko Barbara
Summary: 'It's the day of John's and Mary's wedding. However someone turns up who should not even be alive...' - I've wrote this story about 2-3 weeks ago and I was shocked when I saw pictures about the shooting of season 3 a few days ago. I mean... don't do this... Warning: OOC (maybe?), slash


Bittersweet farewell

John was standing in the garden of a normal sized family home talking to the guests. It was fully decorated with white roses and such that meant to be used for a wedding. There was even an arch waiting for the groom and the bride to promise each other eternal love. They didn't want a wedding in a church, also, didn't had the money for it either, so they organized a small wedding party in their own garden and house, which they bought about half a year ago.

John Watson lacked of skills when it came to organizing wedding, decorating, inviting people and everything that's related to this highly awaited event. So he just stood there and when somebody approached him he just smiled as brightly as he could, thanked the good wishes and listened to them then stood there alone again, swearing because his leg hurt and it was uncomfortable to stand with his cane.

He wasn't in the mood for a wedding, well, he wasn't in a mood for anything since months. Mary was the one, who said to get married and John knew that the half of the offer was because of pity. But still, he was happy that his thought would deal with something else for awhile instead of some sad incident that made John into a living wreck.

Suddenly someone grabbed his arm that made John jump in surprise. Ever since his life with Sherlock Holmes, he was much more a scaredy cat than before.

"Good afternoon, John."

He immediately recognized the voice.

"Mycroft?" He was surprised, especially because they didn't invite Mycroft Holmes.

"It's been a while." His voice, as always, made John irritated. "Such a marvellous event. Please accept my congratulations. Your taste has improved, I have to say. After my brother, Mary is a really great improvement."

"Please don't talk like this." John became more and more irritated because of the way he spoke. "It's disgraceful to talk like this, especially about your deceased brother."

"That's right." Mycroft nodded. "This matter is quite a sensitive point for you, I guess."

John did not want to talk to Mycroft, especially about the death of Sherlock. Even though one and a half year passed since then, he just couldn't move on.

He just could not forget the picture of Sherlock standing on top of the building, his voice as he said his last words and the thud sound when he landed on the ground. These were his last memories of Sherlock Holmes and he relived this scene over and over again in his dreams every night. He suffered much more as everyone would have thought.

"We have to talk about this matter." Mycroft said ending the long silence between them.

"Well, I don't think we have anything to talk about." John turned his back to him, when his phone suddenly started to vibrate.

"A text, I guess." Mycroft said surprising John.

How did he know?

John took his phone from his pocket and he froze for a moment when he saw the sender and the content of the text. His heart started to ache, and suddenly those painful memories became as clear as if he went back in time and being there again, watching Sherlock's jump.

Your room. Now.

S.H.

"You're sick." John said, it was hard for him to hold back himself not to shout. "You have some serious problem if you try to joke with this."

"I'm not joking also, this is the matter I wanted to talk to you about." Mycroft remained calm. "I don't know what you think about me, but I'm not an admirer of black humor."

"Then... wha…" John was interrupted by the vibrating of his phone again.

Hurry.

S.H.

"Why don't you go and find out yourself if I'm joking or not." Mycroft smiled mysteriously and that creep John out.

But he didn't start to wonder about what's this whole thing. He turned his back to Mycroft and almost run to the house nervously pushing away the guest from his way. He almost fly up on the stairs, but he halted in front of the door of his room.

His heart was beating like crazy, and he still thought that this is Mycroft's sick joke. But he was scared. He just couldn't stop himself getting his hopes up also he was imagining that the sender really was Sherlock. Then what? He was so scared to enter the room, because he didn't know what to say if really Sherlock was the one in there.

He took a deep breath and pushed the door and entered the room.

A man stood with his back turned to John who was shocked for a few moments. A familiar back… curly, black hair… and a melody he played on the violin.

John could not believe it. He just couldn't. There is no way the real Sherlock Holmes was standing in the room playing his fucking violin. It's just impossible. He saw him when he died, there is no way he is there with him in the same room breathing the same air.

The man suddenly stopped playing the melody and turned to John. He was wearing black clothes, the same as the driver of the carriage, which was Mary's idea and John didn't like it not even a bit.

But John didn't see anything anymore. His energy suddenly left him and he thought he is going to faint. He was thinking that maybe it would be the best, but it didn't happen. Still, he had too much energy to simply faint. Instead of it, he just stood there frozen and watched the man. The man who should have been dead was standing there staring at him.

"Hello John." His voice to John was like a kick from a horse. He couldn't even say a single word so he just stood there and stared at the man.

"Limping again? Psychosomatic limp is still quite a bother, I guess."

Sherlock's voice was so calm, so balanced as if he didn't really cared about the situation or like the past one and a half year never happened. John envied his calmness also it made him angry and frustrated.

"Sherlock…? Wha…" Sherlock did not let him finish his sentence.

"Nice suit. Judging by the size which is bigger than you, also by the wine spot isn't properly cleaned on the sleeve I guess it is your brother's?"

John had to take a deep breath not to punch him. Even if he had doubts about the man's real identity, after this sentence he knew that the man standing in front of him was the real Sherlock.

"No, it is not." He said.

"What?" Sherlock glared at him with a face that made John smile from his heart after a really long time.

"This suit was my father's."

"No." Sherlock's eyes widened.

"Oh yes." John nodded.

"That can't be!"

"But well, it's still true." John crossed his arms. It was funny to watch Sherlock how he can't believe he was wrong.

"Just tell me it is your brother's."

"It is my brother's."

"That is not true, right?"

"Right."

"Damn it." Sherlock swore and like this, with anger and unbelieving expression he looked more real than ever.

Suddenly John stopped smiling. He couldn't believe that after such an event his first conversation with Sherlock is something like this. He was waiting for something else, but it didn't seem like Sherlock wanted to explain anything and that made John furious.

"Why are you alive?" John was surprised on his own cold and strict voice.

"Oh no, John, that was pretty rude."

Sherlock took the few steps between them and wanted to place his hands on John's shoulders but he pulled back. At that moment he only wanted an answer, he didn't want to be touched by this man.

"You can't be alive, I saw you… I saw you being dead…" His voice trailed off and could not continue.

"Well, just watch me I'm quite lively." Sherlock said jokingly making dancing moves, but he didn't achieve the reaction he wanted.

John became furious and he couldn't stop himself anymore from shouting. He just couldn't believe that Sherlock took everything so lightly and joked about something that made him almost go crazy.

"What? Watch you?" He shouted. "Last time when you told me this, you jumped off of a pretty high building! I watched how you fall into death!" He said every single word as clearly as he could just to be able to make himself understood with the man standing in front of him.

"Relax, John."

"Relax? Relax?! How can I relax? I saw my best friend jumping off from the top of a building, watched him falling and falling down and being slammed into the asphalt and I could not do anything just watch! Don't you dare to calm me down with some fucking 'relax, John'!"

"Look…"

"No, I … I don't want to know it. How could you do this to me? For one and half a year I thought you are dead and now you just pop out of the blue saying 'hello John, I'm alive'? I thought we are friends!"

"And so we are!" Sherlock cried out but then he went back to his normal voice. "Understand my situation a bit. I had to do this I didn't have any choice but to fake my death. That was the only option to save the people who are important to me. To save my only friend and that's you, John."

"But why, why didn't you tell me anything? I could have helped you! Or you don't trust me, right?"

"That's not the case, John." He took a deep breath, and when John looked into his eyes he felt a sinking feeling in his heart. He never saw such sadness in those beautiful eyes. "I wanted to save you and not involve you more than this. And I thought, maybe it's time for me to let you go. I wanted you to have a normal life, normal family without cases and murderers. I mean you are not like me, not even a bit. My life is about murder cases, you deserve more than this."

"I never wanted a normal life. You saved me, Sherlock. Saved me from a life I never wanted. A life with full of boredom and self-pity. But… what's with you thinking like this? The Sherlock Holmes I knew is a self-centred, arrogant bastard… This isn't like you at all… stop this bullshit about wanting to save me…"

"But still" Sherlock continued as if John didn't even say a word. "I couldn't make it. I had to see how you are doing. And everything goes how I planned… Marriage! It's like Christmas time, right?"

Both of them remained silent avoiding each other's gaze. Their head were full of thoughts about each other, their feelings, the past one and half years and reasons why did everything happen the way it did.

Suddenly John looked at Sherlock and asked.

"Mycroft knew it, right?"

"Yes."

"Who else?" He asked impatiently.

"John…"

"Who else knew that you are alive?!" John wanted to hear it no matter what he did not give a damn about Sherlock's apologetic face.

"Well, Molly… and… and Mrs. Hudson. That's it."

"Molly?" John suppressed a series of cursing then asked again. "How did you do it? Like 'The woman'?"

"Oh please John…" Sherlock gave John an astonished look. "Don't take me lightly… It's pitiful. Of course it wasn't a fake body."

"Then how?"

"Secret." Sherlock smiled. He smiled for the first time after they met again.

"Secret?! Just go to hell, okay?" John brought his hands to his face and rubbed his eyes. He became incredibly tired. "I… I've already buried my friend and mourned for months… This is just… just too much."

They became silent again. The only voices that filled the room was the guests chatting in the garden and the light music that the band played. John didn't want to invite a band to play at their wedding, but Mary insisted it and refused to give up on her idea. Still, John hated their guts and it was hard for him to bear listening to their so-called music.

"Violin!" Sherlock said, but John didn't understand what he wanted with suddenly shouting 'Violin'.

"What?"

"You brought my violin with yourself to your new home?" Sherlock smiled again and it shocked John. What's with him? But he still answered.

"Well, yes… when I left Baker Street somehow I just couldn't leave it there."

"I see."

Sherlock looked quite happy with this answer and started to play that familiar melody again which brought John back to the old times. He realized only now how much he missed those times when they solved cases, got stressed by things and how Sherlock ordered him around.

He got lost in his thoughts and only came back to reality when someone grabbed his arm.

It was Mycroft.

"John, it's time." He said. "Everyone is waiting for the groom."

"Oh, but… can't we wait for…" He had so much to say to Sherlock. Suddenly he had a feeling that he should decline the marriage. Hell with it! He will have many opportunities to get married, but he felt that this is an once-in-a-lifetime chance to talk out everything with Sherlock.

"What are you doing John? The woman of your dreams is waiting for you!" Sherlock didn't look at him, he was totally engrossed by his long-time-no-see violin.

"But…"

"Go."

Sherlock looked at him and at that time John saw something in those blue eyes. He saw something that made him feel uneasy and scared. He had so many things to discuss…

"Promise me you won't go away until the ceremony is over." John said and looked into Sherlock's eyes.

He averted his gaze and didn't say a thing. But John didn't let himself being fooled also didn't let him get away.

"Promise me."

Sherlock took a deep breath and stopped playing that melody. He finally looked into John's eyes and said:

"I promise."

John nodded.

"See you after the ceremony." He said, turned his back to Sherlock, but still he felt uneasy. He just couldn't trust Sherlock Holmes' word.

When he wanted to leave the room Sherlock called out to him once more.

"John."

"Yes?"

"No matter what, you have to say yes."

They exchanged a meaningful glance but none of them said anything anymore. John left the room and he heard Sherlock starting to play again his favourite melody.

The ceremony started. Mary was wearing a beautiful white dress, and even though a few days ago, when they choose it together it fascinated John, but now he just couldn't look at her. Also, his mind wasn't there but still in that room together with a man who should have been dead, but was a quite lively corpse.

John couldn't act as happy as Mary did and just couldn't follow the ceremony. He wished they would finish already; he wanted to see Sherlock and tell him everything. He didn't even listen to Mary's promise; instead he mourned his own prayer to himself.

'I have a lot of things to tell you. I want you to know that I've never once believed what you told me about faking every case. I've never once thought about you as a bother, and when I said 'you're awesome' I meant it. I know I didn't tell you this, but I loved living with you at Baker Street and the times when we solved cases together. I was worried when you were depressed because of 'The woman' and to tell you the truth I was a bit jealous, too. I want you to know that you didn't have to tell me to watch you, because I've always looked at you and no one else. And when you jumped off I felt like a part of mine had died with you.

I want to tell you this one and half years were hell to me. I've been up for nights thinking about you, replaying the jumping off in my head over and over again, because I couldn't believe you're dead and tried to find proof about the opposite, so I'll be able to survive every day.

There are no words how much I've suffered because of your loss and how I've wanted to resurrect you.

I want you to know that I've never wanted a normal life. You make me feel alive.

So please… don't disappear until I can tell you all of this.'

When he came back to his senses everybody stared at him. He figured they are already at the stage when he has to say 'yes' or 'no', and suddenly he became discouraged. He didn't feel like marrying Mary anymore. Suddenly he wanted to tell her that his best friend is back, they are going to solve cases again and he will move back to Baker Street.

Suddenly nothing was more important then the fact that Sherlock is back.

He was going to say 'no' when his words started to ring in his ears.

'No matter what, you have to say yes.'

That time he didn't understand why Sherlock said that. But at that moment, standing under the arch in front of Mary who had a really worried expression, he finally understood it.

Sherlock didn't intend to come back.

"Yes." John whispered and at that moment he felt like the part that was bounded to Sherlock and was still alive… in the end it died, too.

Mary stepped close to him. Oh yeah – John thought – I have to kiss her.

As he placed his lips to Mary's, his heart ached like never in his life. He felt like he abandoned and betrayed something or someone, also, Mary's lips tasted bitter to him.

Everybody clapped, went to give their blessings or best wishes, and Mary looked really happy. But somehow John felt sadness and guiltiness and he couldn't wait for this whole thing to end and be able to go back to the room where Sherlock has waited for him. Or that's what John thought.

However Sherlock Holmes wasn't the kind of person who did as everyone would've guessed. And John knew this. And when his phone started to vibrate he closed his eyes as he raised his face to the sky. He knew it.

He took his phone from his pocket and looked at the text message.

Congrats on your marriage.

S.H.

John's chest became tighter and couldn't think about the guests or Mary anymore. He had to see Sherlock, he must see him.

"Sorry." He said and left the crowd and Mary behind, he didn't really cared about what they thought.

He ran and ran, didn't have any idea where he should look for Sherlock, but it didn't matter. The only important thing was to find Sherlock Holmes and never let him go again.

He ran back to the room but didn't find him, so he checked the whole house, but still, no clue about where Sherlock would have gone.

He went to the entrance and left the house, when he saw a black clothed man a few meters in front of himself leaving toward the direction of the carriage. Same height, same figure…just the same as him.

John dropped his cane and started to run with full speed, so he was able to grab the hand of the man. But it was not Sherlock. He was a totally different man, maybe the real driver of the carriage.

"Sorry." John said and let go of the man's hand.

Even when the guy left with a stunned expression on his face, John still stood there. He couldn't do anything but laugh with a slight of misbelief. He should have known it. Sherlock Holmes is not the kind of person who would let himself getting caught just like this.

John knew it, and the bitterness in his heart widened. This was the only feeling his empty heart held into. But still John couldn't do anything but laugh.

In the end he was satisfied. Sherlock didn't disappoint him.

And so Sherlock Holmes disappeared from his life once again.


End file.
